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stumped.

16 Apr

Unexpected release.photo 2

Practicing silence
standing on a stump.

The river flows
gentle unceasing low roar that becomes
white noise
like my
rumbling
grumbling
crumbling
stumbling
soul.
Honking geese whose plaintive calls somehow
I find less annoying than their human
counterparts.

I stand in an amphitheater copse of trees who seem
to have little trouble
being what they are.
Blossoms white, pink, each
a world within themselves
unfolding ancient lore secreted
within.

Standing on a stump
a chorus of shoots young and green rising round
beneath a carpet of dead, discarded leaves
pointing up
pointing at me
bearing silent witness
“You too”
causing me to start.
Dead leaves or
shoots?

Answer:

Yes.

photo

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Posted by on April 16, 2014 in Poetry

 

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